Page 16 of Her Savior Biker
“We’ll read it at home,” Shannon says, and the word ‘home’ sounds brittle. Like she’s not sure it applies to the safehouse. Like she’s not sure it applies anywhere.
The drive back is different. Aiden chatters nonstop about the motorcycle book, about how he told everyone about Savior’s big bike. Shannon’s quiet, but it’s not the angry silence from this morning. This is exhaustion. A woman who’s been holding herself together by sheer will and is finally running out of steam.
“Savior, eat dinner here?” Aiden asks as we pull into the driveway.
I meet Shannon’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “If your mama says it’s okay.”
She gives a slight nod.
Inside, Aiden sprawls on the floor with his new book, making motorcycle noises. Shannon moves to the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator with mechanical efficiency.
“Need help?” I ask.
“I’ve got it.”
But when I step closer, her hands are shaking slightly as she opens a can of tomato sauce.
“Shannon.”
She doesn’t look up. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Do you?”
“That I should be grateful. That you’ve done enough. That it’s time for me to figure out my own problems.” Her voice is level, but a tremor runs underneath. “And you’re right. This isn’t your responsibility.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
Now she looks at me, the fear she’s been hiding all day in her eyes. “Then what?”
I glance toward the living room where Aiden’s absorbed in his book. “We need to talk. About today. About what’s coming.”
Her body goes still, and her breath catches. “He found us.”
“Not yet. But military police were in town yesterday. Asking questions. Showing pictures.”
Her legs give out. She sinks into one of the kitchen chairs like her strings were cut. “Pictures of us?”
“That’d be my guess.”
“Oh God.” She puts her head in her hands, her shoulders starting to shake. “I knew this would happen. I knew he’d find us.”
I want to go to her, pull her into my arms, and promise everything will be okay. But I can’t make promises I might not be able to keep.
“He hasn’t found you yet,” I say instead. “And he’s not going to.”
“How can you be sure?”
Because I won’t let him. Because I’d rather die than let that bastard touch you or Aiden again. Because somewhere between finding you in that freight yard and watching you tuck your son into bed, you became mine to protect.
“Because I’m going to make sure of it,” I say instead.
She looks up at me, something raw and desperate in her dark eyes. “Why? Why would you do that for us?”
“Mama sad?” Aiden’s voice cuts through the moment. He’s standing in the doorway, motorcycle book clutched to his chest, looking between us with that too-perceptive way kids have.
“No, baby.” Shannon wipes her eyes quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”
“Savior, make you better?”
